


The Awesomeverse

by Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie, writingraven



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I got bored one day and this happened, Me and my friend are now in Sherlock's universe, Yeah it's kinda wierd, i might add some sex scenes later, idk - Freeform, random stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie/pseuds/Desdemona_Sarah_McKenzie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingraven/pseuds/writingraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sighed. "So what's your name?"<br/>"Watson."<br/>"First name?"<br/>"John. And yours?"<br/>"Isabel Zhao, known to my friends as Isi, spelt I-s-i. My sister's name is Ruby."<br/>"Oh. Right."<br/>More silence.<br/>"So was it Afghanistan or Iraq?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motorbikes & Mornings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingraven/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STUFF HAPPENS

The girls settled into their new home rapidly, spreading out rugs on floors and quilts on beds. They had moved the little wardrobe into the bigger room, so that they could have a spare room to keep evidence and guests in. They had acquired a couple of armchairs from a charity shop with the money that they had saved for extra expenses.

Isi had gotten accustomed to the stove and the oven, and was working up the courage to cook something, and Ruby had fitted removable bars over the windows in the living room and seven extra locks to the front door.

They were currently working on a case that if they were successful in, they would receive £2450 for their efforts, and another £200 for their silence. Neither of them had been eating regularly due to lack of provisions, so they were considerably excited at the prospect of such a large amount of money.

 

 

***

John had noticed that the sounds of motorbikes were becoming more frequent in the last week. This time, they had woken him up at 5 am. It being a workday, he couldn't go back to sleep, but, of course, he was too tired to stay awake for two hours until he could start his daily routine.

He crept downstairs, intending to make himself a cup of tea, but he stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock was still where he had left him earlier, on the sofa with his hands pressed together under his chin. This sight was not particularly unusual; Sherlock often did this for hours on end when he was thinking.

No, this moment stood out for two reasons; one, Sherlock was sound asleep, and two, the curtains were open, letting pale moonlight spill through the windows and bathe the floor in silver. This bright illumination meant that the world was thrown into a greyscale majesty, pierced with shadows that were darker than spilt ink. These shadows were all over Sherlock, making his cheekbones stand out, exaggerating the rise and fall of his bare - _Where the hell was his shirt?_  - _God, he's well toned for such a thin man_  - chest, and creating swirls of black on his face, where his coal-black mane - _Coal-black mane? What the hell?!_  - blocked the light of the moon.

John gazed guiltily on this beautiful sight for a few minutes, then slowly and quietly made his way upstairs again, only to return, after a minute of worrying, with his duvet, which he draped over his flatmate's prone figure.

He dropped down into his armchair to wait until it was time for him to get ready.

 

 

***

Sherlock woke up feeling strangely warm. He cracked his eyes open slightly to see John in his usual armchair, clearly enervated. Not a nightmare, he didn't look as jumpy as he usually did after a nightmare. He slowed his breathing down to make it seem like he was still asleep as John checked his watch and sighed. He glanced over at Sherlock before getting up and walking into the kitchen. Sherlock could hear the click of the toaster being put on, the swish of water inside the kettle as John filled it. His flatmate had clearly been up some time.

He continued to breathe as though he was asleep; he would just observe John. He had nothing else to do, and it would be interesting to collect data that he would usually miss.

Sherlock realised suddenly what was keeping him so warm. It was John's duvet, he noticed with a start. _Hmmm._  Smelt of old books, sweat, morning cups of earl grey, aftershave, and a little bit of something like lavender honey, but most importantly, it smelt of _John_. He buried his nose in the soft dark blue cotton, breathing in a scent that he had wanted to catalog for so long.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of the shower. A couple of minutes later, John emerged, wet haired and ensconced in his - _frankly hideous_  - blue-and-brown dressing gown. Sherlock made a mental note to look into asking if he could dress John  - _Or undress him, preferably_  - _Where on earth did that thought come from?_

"I know you're awake, Sherlock."

_Drat._  Sherlock sat up, pushing the duvet to the side - _regretfully_  - and opened his eyes. Properly.

John went into the kitchen - _Good. His tousled hair is...most distracting..._  - and continued to talk to him. "So what exactly were you doing half naked on the sofa, freezing to death?" the doctor enquired, buttering his toast.

The answer to John's question was that he had been wondering if it was easier to sleep on the sofa, so that if John had a nightmare- "Sherlock?" John's voice broke through his train of thought. "I was just...thinking." _That'd do._

 

John walked back in with a plate of toast in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. "Thinking about what?" he countered, skeptical.

"The case, John. Honestly! You would think you didn't know me at all."

"Sorry." John mumbled, through a mouthful of toast.

 

***

Across the road, the girls were waking up. Ruby slipped out from under her duvet and crossed the room to stand next to Isi. "Dude. Wake up." Isi didn't stir. Ruby sighed and went over to the cd player they had put in the middle of the room. She pressed play, and The Beatles' 'Good morning' blared out. Isi sat bolt upright in her bed, singing along immediately. 

"Good morning, good morning, good morning, good morning, good _morning-uh!_ " They made eye contact and burst out laughing.

As the song continued, Ruby went to have a shower whilst Isi packed all of their equipment. As she finished, she remembered that Sherlock, and by default John, was living across the road.

She opened the window, leaning out as she examined the flats across the road. She was startled to notice Sherlock, with his back to the window, holding what appeared to be a vial of mercury behind him.

He was in a blue dressing gown, and judging from the creases in it and the state of his hair, he had slept on the sofa. _Odd,_  she thought. _Perhaps they usually share a bed? No. It's far more likely that Sherlock's bedroom was out of order for some reason. They aren't going out yet, and John didn't seem like the kind of man who would let another person sleep in the same bed as him if they weren't together._

Sherlock moved, and she could see past him to where John was heading out of the door.

***

As John turned to continue his journey, he heard a feminine voice calling his name.

"John Watson!"

He looked up and down the street, but he didn't see anyone. He strode off, mildly puzzled, but stopped again as the mysterious speaker revealed herself.

"John, for Christ's sake, _look up!_ "

He did as she asked, and realised immediately where he had heard that voice before.

"Isi! Hello!"

The girl in question was leaning (dangerously far) out of one of the first floor windows of 220. She was beaming down at him. "So, where you off to?"

"Work. What're you doing there?"

"Me and Ruby live here now. Didn't Sherlock tell you?"

"He might've mentioned it in passing."

"Do you want a lift to your work?"

"It'll only take me twenty minutes to get there. I'll be fine."

"Well, if you insist. Feel free to ask."  
She paused as she remembered something. "Oh yeah! Sorry if we woke you up last night, we don't usually ride that fast. We were being followed."

"Oh." He opened his mouth to ask why, then shut it again; he couldn't deal with this much in one morning. "Right. Well, see you later, I suppose." He strode off down the street, leaving Isi to close the window and cook her and Ruby's breakfast.

***

At around 12:57, Sherlock finished the experiment he was conducting and called Lestrade to let him know who the killer was, his motive and where to find him and his murder weapon.

He huffed in exasperation. A client/murderer had broken his violin two days ago, Mrs Hudson was out, and he was _bored_.

 

 


	2. No place like home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold speech is Isi and Ruby speaking in unison.

_ A couple of months later_

Sherlock glared down at the people crowding in around him. He had only taken the tube because he needed to see what the victim could have seen when the train stopped at Paddington. He hated public transport. So...vulgar.

The train doors closed, and he found two girls pressed against his right arm, muttering fiercely to a middle-aged man. He listened in on their conversation, too bored to do anything else.

"Mr Thompson, we have solved your case. Please, just give us our money and we'll leave you alone." the shorter, blonde girl was saying. The brunette followed this statement with a half-growled " _Don't_  make us use force.", and a fierce glare.

"I don't believe you really solved it. You're just a couple of schoolkids trying to make a quick buck." the man, Mr Thompson, sneered.

Both girls stood up straight. Sherlock could feel the anger rolling off them in waves.

"Mr Thompson, would you care to see a demonstration of our talents?" the blonde spat.

"What talents?" Mr Thompson goaded.

The brunette drew a quick breath, glanced around, then began speaking rapidly. "The woman behind you is a florist; she has bits of plant leaf under her nails, rope burns from the string she uses to tie packages with, she smells faintly of earth, she has all the equipment for floristry in her handbag, which is wide open. She is also a single mother of two; there's a locket around her neck, which is partly open." she stopped to draw breath as the blonde continued.

"The man standing next to the florist is obviously stalking her; he is holding his phone at an angle where he could easily take pictures of her, he is leaning in towards her more than is polite, showing all the signs of attraction, and hasn't taken his eyes off of her since he got on, yet she shows no signs of recognition."

Mr Thompson narrowed his eyes. "I still don't believe you. Those details are quite obvious. I could have picked them out myself."

The brunette glared at him, whilst her friend snorted in derision. They started speaking in perfect unison. " **The man behind us is eavesdropping on our conversation; he is leaning in ever-so-slightly, and has quietened his breathing.** " The brunette continued, alone: "He lives with another man, whom he has unrequited feelings for; this other man has sandy hair, is a doctor and- oh!" she turned round to face Sherlock. She was wearing glasses and an expression of realisation. "You don't seem too impressed by our deductions, only surprised we can think like this. You must see or do this on a regular basis. Is your sandy-haired friend, perchance, a-"

"Doctor John Watson." Sherlock finished her sentence for her. The brunette smiled and stuck out her hand, which he shook politely. 

"My name's Isabel Zhao, and this is my sister, Ruby McAllister," she indicated her blonde companion, "and you must be Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure to meet you!" she gave him a radiant smile.

The train stopped at Marylebone station, and Mr Thompson and what seemed like fifty other people got off, leaving behind three seats in a row. The girl who had introduced herself as Isabel went to sit in one, and 'Ruby' sat beside her. Sherlock sat down next to Ruby, who turned to him with a smirk on her face.

"So, Mr Holmes, tell us about yourself."

"I'd rather not."

"Well, tell us about John, then."

"You probably already know everything about him, judging by your display of your 'intellectual prowess', as you put it. What I want to know is how you know him."

Isabel answered him. "Ruby was stabbed a couple months back. I had some damage to my feet, which he helped mend. He was also in the same ward as us. He told me about you."

"I see."

The train stopped. The three of them stood up and made for the doors. As they emerged into the harsh light of the autumn sun, Isabel turned to Ruby. "So why are we here again?"

"There's a building, halfway down the street, that's just been rebuilt. They're letting out flats there at extremely low prices; apparently a terrorist blew up the previous building a year or so ago."

"Hmm. Sounds pleasant." Isi replied, sarcastically.

"Well, I've already booked a viewing, and it's only a hundred a month to rent, so why don't we give it a try?"

"Yeah, all right."

"Are you talking about 220?" Sherlock cut in. The girls nodded simultaneously; once up, once down."I live across the street. I'll be more than happy to help if you need anything," he continued, "But John will be expecting me back any moment now. Goodbye!"

The girls stopped outside 220. " **See you, then.** " Sherlock gave them a half-wave, and crossed over to 221. He stopped at the door, looking back over his shoulder to watch them disappear through the entrance to their flats. He turned back round, and bounded up the stairs to 221b.

He burst through the door, making John look up from his newspaper in alarm. "Sherlock! What-"

"I just met some friends of yours."

***

Ruby led Isi up the stairs of 220 Baker Street, arriving at a table behind which stood an overeager young woman (first job, wants promotion, three kids, broke) who greeted them enthusiastically.

"Miss McAllister? Pleasure to meet you! And this is...?"

Isi cleared her throat and glared at her sister. "So much for keeping a low profile." she muttered.

"I'm sorry?" the young woman batted her eyelashes, pretending to be confused.

Ruby dug an elbow into Isi's side, forcing the taller girl to plaster a fake smile onto her face. She forced out an "Isabel Zhao, her sister." by way of greeting, then fell silent until Ruby said, rather pointedly, "Shall we go look at the flat, then?"

The young woman - a Miss Jersey by the name tag on her bag - was startled out of her nervous silence into a nervous half-mutterings. "Ahem, yes, the flat! Er, this way!" she indicated a door labelled as 220a, to their left. "Watch out for the little step down, ha ha, er, yes. Sorry, um, yeah." They stepped into a room about 7 metres square, with a boring grey carpet and boring beige wallpaper. "Through there is the kitchen," (Fridge, stove, microwave, expansive counters, large cupboard, cream coloured tiles, boring linoleum floor) "And there are two bedrooms, one with a double bed," she showed them a tiny room with a tinier wardrobe, "And one with two singles." This room had a window looking out towards a small courtyard garden, two beds, and a lot more space than the other. "And through here, the bathroom." Miss Jersey led them back out into the main room, where all the rooms entered into, and then into a small, white tiled room. "As you can see, there is a bath, a shower, toilet, and sink." They shuffled back into the main room. Isi went to look out the windows as Ruby checked prices with Miss Jersey. "So, if we wanted a mortgage, how much would it cost per month?" she asked.

"Well, as you know, the mortgage is for seven thousand pounds, so you can pay as quickly as you want."

"Hey, Isi! What about five hundred and eighty-four a month?"

"Sounds cool." Isi was still gazing out the window.

"What are you looking at?" Miss Jersey asked, curiously.

"Possible vantage points for snipers." Isi half-turned and gave her a lopsided grin. Miss Jersey laughed nervously.

Ruby cleared her throat, embarrassed. "Umm...do you think the neighbours would mind us keeping our motorbikes on the street outside?"

"No, of course not." Miss Jersey replied. "I'll give you all the necessary paperwork, and you can sign it."

***

A few hours later, all the necessary paperwork had been signed, and Ruby and Isi had gone back to their old flat to pick up their stuff. They had managed to fit most of it into two smallish suitcases, and the rest was stuffed into a backpack and three pockets. They took one last look around the grotty little hell-hole that they had been forced to call home, then ran down to the street below.

They pulled up outside 220 Baker Street just as the streetlights started to come on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me feedback, I want to hear from you all!


End file.
